I can’t help but smirk. “Well, it is, isn’t it? After all, your Prince Charming came from there.”
She scoffs and lightly pushes at my chest. “Prince? Sure. Charming? Not even a little.”
“Rude.” I scowl, and she just winks back at me.
I take her hand in mine as we start walking, the action just instinct now. Never in my twenty-thousand years of life did I think holding hands would be something I would enjoy, but the feel of her tiny palm in mine is a comfort I’ve grown to crave.
The ground beneath us is spongy with black moss that’s coiled around ancient roots of gnarled trees. The air smells like wet earth and death. Whispers cling to every gust of wind, brushing against the backs of our necks like cold, dead fingers that we can’t slap away.
“This is the realm of dark magic,” I murmur. “Where corruption is currency, and desire is poison. The creatures here… they don’t need to hunt you. They just wait until you want something badly enough to beg. Then they give it to you, for a price.”
We follow the narrow, half-submerged path winding toward the northern swamplands, where Maelkar Vyre—the Shadowtongue—keeps his throne made of stolen souls and blackened bone. A palace sits there, built from the broken bodies of his victims. Some of them human, some of them creatures of the realms, some of them mine.
I grit my teeth at the thought of seeing him perched upon the bones of my people. This isn’t about me though; it’s about her. Turning her immortal. This is the place she becomes stronger, less fragile, less breakable. And I’ll ensure that here, nothing hurts her. I will burn this entire fucking realm to nothing but blackened ash before I let it harm her.
We pass a bog that gurgles as something shifts beneath the surface, causing ripples to spread across the murky water. We’re already being watched. The whispers seem to grow louder the further we walk, coming from the bogs and the bones beneath our feet.
Daisy flinches beside me. “What was that?” She gasps, pressing close to my side.
I follow her gaze. In the bog, just beneath the veil of darkness, a pair of eyes gleam—dead, glassy, and completely void of thought.
“That,” I say grimly, “is a Vyreshade. Creatures made by Maelkar from corrupted beings—mortal, fae, demon, even gods. They come seeking desires, and when their deals run dry, he strips their souls and twists them into those things. Now they drag others into the dark and feast.”
Her grip tightens on my hand as I feel her fear vibrating around her.
“They’re not just here,” I continue. “He sends some into other realms disguised as temptation. A perfect lover, a lost child, a promise of peace. They’re all the same in the end—bait.”
Her voice is small. “So… he’s worse than you. No offence.”
I nod once. “So much worse. I take souls in trade for their wants, with no trickery. He takes everything, the deals lasting as long as he wants them to. I await death before collecting. He collects whenever he likes.”
A beat of silence. Then, quietly, she asks, "Was this really the only way to make me immortal?”
My jaw clenches. “Only dark magic can turn a person immortal from mortal. And Maelkar is the only dark magic wielder that I know of. Although I’m sure it won’t come without a price.”
Her swallow is so loud it’s audible even above the whispers. I grip her close, hooking her chin up to look at me. “I’ll keep you safe, Daisy. I won’t fail you again.”
She frowns. “You have never failed me, Korithax.”
I look away from her gaze, knowing damn well that her words weren’t true.
“Look at me,” she says.
I look down at her again, her ocean-blue eyes glowing with purity, even here. “You saved me, Kori.”
She chews her lip, like she’s nervous for whatever she’s about to say next. But before she gets a chance, a loud screech sounds from the sky, and I drag her back against my chest instinctively, my wings exploding from my back with a loud whoosh. My magic reserves are low—dangerously low—but I know exactly what’s lurking above, and if I need a quick escape, by foot wasn’t going to work.
“What the hell was that?” Daisy asks, eyes darting skyward.
“A Velgrithon,” I mutter. “A flying predator that looks similar to a gargoyle with venom for blood. And no, it’s not friendly.”
She groans. “Of course it isn’t.”
“Nothing here is, little flower,” I say. “Not even Maelkar. Especially not Maelkar. Remember that.”
I don’t put away my wings, even though they feel like they’re carved from stone now. We walk deeper into the mire, the path ahead winding into shadow. Daisy presses close, and I feel her tremble. I wrap an arm around her, trying my best to make her feel as safe as possible.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” I promise. “Even if I have to rip out my soul and hand it to Maelkar myself.”
